


Trypanophilia

by Pavonisa



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Will, Hannibal is asexual but likes power, M/M, Or not, Poor Will, Slow Build, Will is just confused, canon divergence at Futamono (2x06), he probably wouldn't thank you, it's all very mysterious, needles and various medical kink stuff, slightly AU, someone save Will Graham, top!Hannibal, who doesn't know Hannibal knows his kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pavonisa/pseuds/Pavonisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has been searching for a means to control Will and he might just have found it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trypanophilia

**Author's Note:**

> I've always preferred the theory that Hannibal is pretty much asexual, so I thought I'd try writing a medical kink piece where I can have my cake and watch Hannibal feed it to Will in slow sensual bites. Sex may or may not follow, but there will definitely be way more medical kink in the second chapter.

Hannibal wasn’t a particularly sexual man. Sex might be a form of release for the pent-up emotions of so many of his clients, but he had other outlets available. It was rarely worth the effort and over time, Hannibal had found that he appreciated beautiful men and women far more as art –of one kind or another –than as potential sexual partners. He could probably diagnose his own sexuality if he were so inclined, but he wasn’t. Sex was not something he desired and Hannibal saw no reason to try and correct that. Sex for pleasure simply did not pique his interest.

He had been watching Will Graham carefully. He also did not strike Hannibal as a man who had sex for pleasure. Too much eye contact required, too many delicate, unspoken social cues to be acknowledged. Love and sex, as far as Hannibal had observed, required deliberate blindness at times, a willing ignorance of your partner’s flaws. That was a luxury he was willing to wager Will Graham had never been able to rely upon. More than that though, he seemed largely uninterested in the whole concept of sexual attraction. Hannibal had never observed his eyes wandering or his pulse speeding with sudden arousal. There seemed to be no desire in Will for the physical act any more than there was in Hannibal.

But Will desired Alana Bloom, or at least the stability and normality she represented. He did so badly want to be normal, even when everyone could see his gift, his rare and unique mind. They were so far below him, afraid of what they could never comprehend. It was irritating to watch Will remain unappreciated, but it had made it easy for Hannibal to quietly cut the spider’s threads that attached Will to those around him. The only difficulty Hannibal had been experiencing was severing the bonds between Alana and Will.

He had thought of seducing Alana. It would be easy enough; she admired him as her mentor and a friend, she looked up to him and was herself attracted to his apparent stability just as Will was attracted to hers. The thought didn’t please him as much as he had thought it would. Embarking on a sexual relationship with Alana would only bind her to him. It would restrict the time he could spend on his own projects, the time he could spend with Will and most importantly, it risked identifying Hannibal as an obstacle in the path to Will’s happiness. He could not risk Will pulling away from him now, when the ties of friendship  were still thin and new.

The problem seemed to have no easy solution and it was starting to frustrate him. Will was wasted here, a predator sluggish from eating the diet of prey, like a bleary-eyed wolf holding together his tattered sheep’s clothing while the rest of the herd shied away without knowing why. Looking at him in the midst of their usual session, Hannibal’s fingers twitched minutely, longing to rip the disguise from Will’s shoulders and force him to confront his true nature.

He was still thinking about it when Will’s car pulled up in his driveway, the distinctive loose rattling that accompanied the over-rich petrol smell ensuring he was forewarned.

“Come in, Will.” Hannibal always enjoy their sessions. True, no actual psychology was really done –Will was far too good at picking people apart to submit readily to it himself –but Hannibal had to admit that their conversations were stimulating at the very least. “I hope your trip was uneventful.”

Will dropped his bag by the door and only the knowledge that he did it to annoy his not-quite-therapist stopped Hannibal voicing his displeasure. It was almost endearing, like a teenager’s directionless rebellion. He’d learn better manners in time.

“Fine,” Will said grudgingly, kneeling to take off his boots before he entered the house proper. Hannibal’s eyebrow rose slightly. Perhaps there was hope for him after all. “I think we’re going to get an early snow, the wind was brutal out at Wolf Trap when I left . . .”

He’d eaten in the car, Hannibal could smell it on him. Something greasy and overly-seasoned, the scent clinging to his clothes.

“What is new for you?” he asked, smiling genially as Will almost flopped into the leather chair that sat opposite Hannibal’s usual spot.

There was a short, hard chuckle from Will. “Besides work?” he asked rhetorically. “Not much. I didn’t lose any time this week. I mean, I don’t think I did.”

“What do you do for relaxation?” Hannibal left the question of lost time for later in the evening. Will seemed to prefer to address it early on in an attempt to move past it quickly.

“I don’t know . . . fish, mostly. But it’s going to be too cold for fly fishing soon.” Will looked a little lost by the enquiry. “Why’s that important?”

“All work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy,” said Hannibal with a small smile and was rewarded by a quick answering grin from Will. “It would be unwise to allow your work to become your life.”

Will shrugged. “I’m usually too tired to do anything but feed the dogs and fall asleep. The trip doesn’t help. Everything is hours out from Wolf Trap.”

“Maybe in future, you should request that unusual serial killers commit crimes closer to home,” Hannibal suggested dryly.

Will snorted. “If it means less travel time, they can camp in the barn between murders.” He had a dark, almost morbid sense of humour at times. Hannibal had seen the momentary purse of Will’s lips during a crime scene as he held in a joke that would no doubt be witty, cutting and entirely inappropriate. It made Hannibal quietly satisfied that he considered serial murders something he could joke about. When something is laughable, it becomes less frightening.

“Doctor Lecter?” Will looked at him, his eyes full of the slightly suspicious curiosity he seemed to use in place of confusion. Hannibal schooled his expression immediately, removing whatever trace of emotion Will had glimpsed. He must be careful, moving so slowly it was impossible to determine the point at which he had begun to close in. Even that was proof of Will’s true nature –Hannibal would never have had to move so cautiously to ensnare an innocent.

“I apologise. Please, go on,” he said, idly noting the twitch running up Will’s jaw; a symptom of his occasional but strong headaches from what he had observed. When he mentioned as much, Will let out a short bark of laughter.

“Do you usually watch me this closely?” asked Will, somehow managing to look flattered and annoyed by the observation. Mostly annoyed. if Hannibal had to guess, he’d say Will enjoyed the idea of receiving attention but he had no idea how to respond when he got it.

“It’s a common tic,” Hannibal remarked mildly. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of stress headaches in the past. Instead of pouring more aspirin down your throat,” he said, raising his voice slightly to forestall Will’s fumbling hands already rattling his ever-present bottle of painkillers, “may I recommend something more effective?” He really didn’t want to think about the damage Will was doing to his liver with his self-medication.

“It’s Tylenol,” Will muttered in one of his small acts of rebellion, but paused. He looked at Hannibal, down at his bottle of pills –hesitated –sagged further down into the chair in resignation. “If it’ll do something about this headache, I’d seriously consider a dose of arsenic,” he said.

“I think I have something in my bag. Hannibal rose lightly to his feet, letting his path take him close enough to Will’s chair to almost brush his shoulder. “I apologise, I am out of arsenic at the moment.” He paused, sensing Will’s amusement even with his back to the chair. “You said you’re taking Tylenol?”

Hannibal withdrawing a small glass syringe and a clear ampule. The syringe was slightly more modern, packaged in sterile plastic. Will nodded, his eyes widening as he took in the equipment Hannibal was neatly arranging on a serving tray. “You don’t have that in pill form?” he asked, looking a little pale. Hannibal frowned. He hadn’t realised Will had a needle phobia.

“An injection is the quickest way to relieve pain,” he said matter-of-factly, “and to determine if this particular drug is effective. Unless you’re afraid of needles?”

Will didn’t take his eyes off the tray as Hannibal laid it on the small table beside his chair. “Not afraid,” he said, voice slightly higher pitched than earlier, “just cautious.”

Hannibal smiled, knowing only Will would see the teasing edge. “It is unlikely to leap from its packaging and attack you, Will.”

“I know that!” It was difficult to tell in the dim light of the study but Hannibal thought there was a faint red flush suffusing Will’s cheeks and neck. “I’m not a child, Doctor Lecter.”

Taking the matter as settled, Hannibal carefully withdrew the needle from its resting place. There was something beautiful about the ritual. Needle gently fitted to the glass plunger, piercing the ampule of painkiller and slowly drawing it out, clear and perfect.

“This is 5cc of oxycodone,” he said, discarding the empty packaging. “Your medical information says that you aren’t allergic.”

“I’m not.” Will hadn’t taken his eyes from the syringe. Hannibal was slightly surprised to see the initial unease seemed to have given way to a slightly glazed look. “So, what, you’re gonna stick it in my neck?”

Hannibal tapping the side of the syringe. Ostensibly, it was to make sure no bubble of air were trapped inside, but he just enjoyed the ring of blown glass. A little indulgence, just for him. “Nothing so extreme, Will,” he said softly, a little unsure how to deal with Will’s odd behaviour. “Just make a fist for me . . . and squeeze . . .”

Will let out a small breath, squeezing his fist until the veins showed beneath his pale skin like a diagram showing exactly where to cut for maximum blood loss. Hannibal stored that thought away for later, focusing on the task at hand.

Will twitched as Hannibal tried to insert the needle, redirecting the point into the flesh of the inside of Will’s elbow.

“I apologise,” Hannibal withdrew the needle quickly but Will seemed oddly unfazed. The smile he gave Hannibal had a slightly dreamy quality to it.

“It’s fine,” he said with more composure than expected. Hannibal quickly checked the needle to make sure he hadn’t gotten the vein after all. No, still all present. Maybe he was mentally withdrawing from the situation?

It went in the second time without a hitch, sliding beneath the skin like a slender silver fang. Will let out a sigh as he watched the plunger depress, pushing the painkiller into the exposed vein.

“Not so bad,” he teased, sounding a little shaky. Hannibal leaned over him, securing a small piece of cotton to the wound with soft tape. “Only took you two tries.”

“I believe you were the one who moved,” Hannibal pointed out without any real rancour, sniffing indignantly for Will’s benefit . . . and then again, slightly more forcefully. There was a new scent to Will’s body, something slightly heavy and –oh. _Oh._

Without changing his expression, Hannibal carefully sealed the needle into a disposable plastic case, disposing of it in the small sharp’s bin he kept by the medicine cabinet.

“I’ll check your pain levels in five minutes or so,” Hannibal said equitably. “Now, where were we?”

He nodded as Will picked up the dropped conversational thread, even commenting from time to time –but his mind was far away. He had assumed his distaste for sexual activities and Will’s awkward avoidance of intimacy meant that attempting to control Will through his sexuality was too risky. But that hadn’t been discomfort in Will’s face, in his voice as the syringe skewered his skin. That had been . . . something else entirely.

Hannibal relaxed back into his chair, thinking intently. Will for his part seemed more than willing to dismiss the incident, talking through his latest dreams with more and more animation as his headache receded. It was only after they had wrapped up the session, expressing polite goodbyes at the threshold and again as Hannibal escorted Will to his car and watched him disappear down the drive that he allowed the satisfied smirk that had been struggling to make itself known all night.

The smile lingered as he made his way indoors, placing the body of the syringe into his autoclave and collecting his iPad from its drawer in his study desk. Hannibal had a lot of research to do before next week’s session.


End file.
